


It's All A Blur

by CykaSpace



Category: Blur (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay, M/M, Mentions of self-harm, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CykaSpace/pseuds/CykaSpace
Summary: I've wanted to write about Blur for ages now and I'm so pleased that I've finally gotten round to it. I hope you enjoy it. As always, comments and Kudos are very much appreciated!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FBSRO

Damon walked away from his house and on his way to school. The rain pattered onto his black umbrella and bounced off onto the pavement which was smothered in puddles already. Grey clouds covered the sky and there was no shelter until you reached the school (which was a mile away). Anyway, Damon liked the rain even if his hair did cling to his face and make him look like a twat when he entered class. Damon carried on walking until he reached the school.

  
  


‘Mr. Albarn, please explain to me why you didn’t attend detention yesterday evening,’ Damon’s geography teacher, Mr. Sampson, demanded. Damon shrugged and stroked a hand through his hair.

 

‘I was busy,’ he replied calmly with a shrug.

 

‘Well, I expect you to attend and even longer detention tonight. One hour and I’m also calling your parents about your continuous misbehaviour.’ Damon rolled his eyes and shook his head gently as he pushed past his teacher.

 

‘Albarn, come back here this instant!’ Mr. Sampson yelled. Damon ignored him. He had his art class to get to and he already knew the protocol for a “Parent-Calling Detention”. On his way to his art class, Damon bumped into his Alex, a kid he shared his art, music and drama class with.

 

‘You alright, mate?’ Alex asked as they walked down the hall together. ‘You look shattered.’ Damon nodded his head and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

 

‘Yeah, just had a shit night last night. Lightening kept me up,’ he explained and pushed open the door to art class. Alex nodded. He’d known Damon for around a year now but the boy still remained a mystery. Alex wasn’t, by any means, an open book but he did at least tell Damon the basics such as his birthday, his sister’s name and his parents’ names. But Damon...he was somewhat of a recluse in the sense that nobody knew what was going on through his head. Granted, people did make assumptions about him given that he did get into quite a lot of fights and arguments but Alex could tell that there was more than met the eye with the sandy, scruffy blond. The two boys entered the classroom just as registration was taking place; their art teacher, Mrs. Roscal, calling out the names in her regular, chirpy voice.

  
‘I’m so glad you boys have joined us! Please, take your seats. Damon, Alex, I’ll mark you both in as present.’ Damon nodded at his teacher in gratitude and Alex mouthed a gentle “Thank you” before walking to sit next to his friend, Scott. That left only one seat for Damon and that seat was on a single table with two chairs positioned at it. The boy who Damon would be sharing the rest of the term next to was Graham Coxon, the recluse know-it-all who, as far as Damon was aware, had no friends. Sighing inaudibly, Damon walked over to the chair and plonked himself down onto it, shoving his mahogany-brown backpack under the table. Graham ignored Damon and moved not-so-subtly away from him. Graham had hair that was a very dark carob (verging on black), his pale skin glistened under the piercing stare of the art-room lights and his hazel eyes stared fixedly at his set of sketch pencils laid out on the desk, purposely ignoring Damon.  _ Fine _ , Damon thought,  _ if that’s how you want to play it _ . 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually added in some of my own experiences into this chapter: the drama teacher being one of them. My art teacher is, however, the complete opposite to the one in this story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter that I wrote a the library.
> 
> FBSRO

Art seemed to be something really important to Graham. Every time Damon would use one of the sketch pencils that their teacher had laid out, Graham would scrutinise the way he used it; his eyes darting back and forth from Damon’s working hand and the perfectly arranged pencils in front of him. Damon pretended not to notice and carried on with his work, even provoking Graham at some points by putting the pencils back in the incorrect order. Sneaking a quick glance over to Graham, Damon managed to see what he was drawing. In front of Graham sat a beautifully, half-complete sketch of John Lennon in full-detail. A gasp got caught in Damon’s throat as he realised how astonishing Graham’s work was. Damon didn’t want to be caught staring by the weird kid so he quickly returned to his work, carrying on with the shading for his own sketch of an umbrella in the rain. They were supposed to be sketching something quick and easy but it seemed that Graham completely ignored the restrictions. Mrs. Roscal clapped her hands and cleared her throat.

‘Right class, pencils down. Please hand in your sketches to me, finished or not, with your name written on the back. We don’t want a repeat of last time, do we, Sarah?’ Sarah, the sweet but shy blonde girl, blushed embarrassedly and glanced away from Mrs. Roscal, a small smile spreading across her lips. Roscal never meant any harm when she said things like that, she simply wanted to draw attention to a poor situation with humor (that was artly what Damon liked about her, even though he would never admit that he actually liked the company of a teacher. Graham sighed next to him and shook his head at the drawing, mumbling to himself about something not being right with it. Damon simply smiled at his work; he was actually quite proud of it. Noticing that Graham was interested in what he’d drawn, Damon subtly made it visible from the brown-haired man’s vantage point and watched out of the corner of his eye for a reaction. Graham gave none and turned back to organising the pencils. Needless to say, Damon was disappointed; he’d hoped to get at least some form of reaction from “Graham The Almighty Artist”.

 

‘Albarn, Coxon, would you please hold up your work for the class?’ Damon held his up without hesitation, a bored expression over his face. Graham, on the other hand, was very hesitant and seemingly uncomfortable before holding it up. Gasps could be heard from the class and Graham buried his face in the hand that wasn’t supporting the sketch.

 

‘Excellent work as always, Graham,’ Mrs. Roscal said, a smile plastered on her face. She turned her attention to Damon’s work. ‘Very well done, Damon. You’re certainly improving.’ Damon nodded and a ghost of a smile appeared on his face for a split second before it disappeared. Graham pulled out his teal bag from underneath the table and began to pack his things away just as everyone else did. Damon hurried out of the door with Alex hot on his heels. Their next lesson was drama and they wanted to be the first there to get the best props before they were all taken.

  
Pushing open the classroom door, Damon noticed that his teacher was yet to arrive. Both boys shrugged and walked inside to the props bin, throwing their bags to the corner of the room and not caring where they landed. Alex rummaged through the bin for his favourite prop that would certainly help them with their upcoming assessment; a plastic dagger. You see, Damon, Alex and their other friend Dave (who was only in their drama and social studies class) had all gone for a more traditional option; The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe. Most people had gone for Romeo and Juliet or Hamlet or Macbeth or something else Shakespeare related. Originally, Damon and Alex were contented to jump onto the Shakespeare bandwagon until Dave suggested they do something different in order to gain higher marks. Damon was the “insane killer bloke” as he put it, Dave was the old man and Alex was the police officer that went to investigate the suspicious activity (they would have had more police officers had their group not abandoned them to find a Shakespeare group). Alex looked up to find Damon almost head-standing inside the props-box, searching rapidly for something. Seemingly indifferent to his current situation, Damon carried on searching, his legs waving somewhat comically in the air. Even when the rest of their class walked in (along with their, Mr. Welks), Damon  _ still _ didn’t get out of his box. Mr, Welks, who was used to Damon’s rowdy behaviour but didn’t stand for it, cleared his throat loudly as he strode into the room. Finally, Damon leapt out of the box with the prop in his hand and yelled a triumphant “Ah-ha!” before going to sit with Dave and Alex.


	3. Chapter Three

FBSRO

 

Alex sat next to Damon in their nearby park, both boys with a cigarette between their lips. After drama class, there was really no reason to carry on with the school day so they blew it off together. Dave, on the other hand, needed to stay the rest of the day as there was a club at lunch that he needed to attend for extra credit for social studies. Alex blew smoke into Damon’s face.

‘Alex, you bastard!’ Damon laughed, swatting away the smoke from his face. Alex smirked and laid down on the grass.

‘I don’t get our weather,’ he said. ‘It was grey and shit this morning and now it’s all sunny and warm.’ Damon nodded.

‘The grass’s still wet.’ Damon took a drag of his cigarette and puffed out the smoke through his nose, closing his eyes and feeling the rays of sun beat down onto his skin. A bony elbow to the ribs made Damon open his eyes.

‘Weird kid at three o’clock,’ Alex whispered. Damon looked subtly over to where Alex had told him to and, low and behold, was Graham Coxon, pouring over a book under the shade of a tree. 

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ he cursed under his breath. Alex laughed beside him and rested his head on Damon’s shoulder.

‘I think he’s stalking you,’ Alex joked.

‘Should I call him over?’ Alex asked. Before Damon could plead no, Alex stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, ‘Oi, Coxon! Damon wants to say hello!’ Damon punched Alex’s shins as a string of profanities left his mouth in one jumbled sentence.

‘You bloody bastard!’ Damon yelled and stood up to slap Alex around the back of the head.

‘He looked up, though,’ Alex chuckled, rubbing the spot where Damon hit him.

‘I don’t give one, you twat!’ Graham looked up to watch Damon fight Alex, shaking his head at them. Part of Graham wanted him to go over there and ask them what they wanted. The other part of him just wanted to continue reading and ignore them.

‘Coxon!’ Alex yelled again. Graham huffed and looked up.

‘What do you want?’ he answered, his voice cracking slightly. Alex stifled a laugh and Damon smacked his shoulder.

‘Damon wants to say hello- ow!’ Graham chuckled despite himself as Damon pushed Alex to the floor and kicked him playfully in the shins.

‘You know you love me,’ Alex laughed. Damon turned around and began to walk towards Graham, no malice in his stride, just a simple walk.

‘Sorry about Alex,’ he began as he reached Graham. ‘He’s a bit of a cock sometimes.’ Graham nodded.

‘So...I’ll just be heading back.’ Damon began to walk off when Graham cleared his throat.

‘I, uh, I liked your sketch in art class,’ Graham stuttered.

‘Cheers, you too.’ Damon walked back over to Alex who blew a kiss at him as he arrived.

‘So, how was your little friend?’ Damon kissed Alex and pushed him away.

‘Piss off, man,’ he chuckled and walked over to his school bag, picking it up and slinging it over his shoulder.

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FBSRO

It was true that many people had favourite days for whatever reason but Damon had never really felt the need to pick one, nor did he deem any day to be his best. Saturdays were good, he went to the park with Alex and Dave to play football or frisbee as it was kind of a ritual, but he wouldn’t call it his best day. School days were shit because they were, well, school days. It wasn’t that Damon was bad at school, he was mediocre at worst, but he just found it boring and a waste of time; if he wanted to be at least some form of performer, why would he have to learn about Linear Equations and Pythagoras’ Theorem? Alex felt the same way and so did Dave (although Dave seemed to be a little concerned about his grades at school, which was probably a good thing). Damon walked up to Alex’s front door and knocked three times. A few moments later, a very dishevelled Alex opened his door; his hair sticking up in all sorts of directions and the bags under his eyes more prominent than they usually are.

‘Damon, what the shit are you doing here?’ Alex asked, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘Steven, language!’ Alex’s mother yelled from the kitchen. Rolling his eyes, Alex put on his best “Good Boy” voice and yelled back, ‘Sorry, Mum. It won’t happen again.’ Damon chuckled and poked his head through the door.

‘Hey Mrs. James!’ he called. A scraping of wooden legs from a chair sounded and Mrs. James rushed over to greet Damon.

‘Oh, hello Damon, dear. Would you like to come in for toast and tea?’ Damon grinned.

‘Yeah, that’d be lovely, thanks.’ Alex moved out of the way for Damon to enter the house. Alex walked over to his Mum and kissed her on the cheek.

‘’m just going up to get changed, I’ll be down in a bit,’ he told Damon and rushed past him. As Damon entered the kitchen behind Mrs. James, he spotted Alex’s younger sister, Deborah, sitting at the table and chatting to Alex’s Dad, Jason.

‘Hey Debs, morning Mr. James,’ Damon greeted. Deborah looked up at Damon and smiled.

‘Hey Damon,’ she replied. Mr. James gave a warm smile, mimicking the one his daughter gave Damon earlier. ‘Are you and Steven walking to school with each other today?’ Damon helped himself to a slice of toast and nodded.

‘Yeah, I promised him we’d walk together. He gets kind of worried when we don’t.’ Mr. James rolled his eyes and nodded.

‘Don’t we know it. He comes home after school shaken and worried; I have no idea what he’s so worried about, if I’m being honest. Steven is such a drama queen sometimes.’  _ Huh,  _ Damon thought,  _ guess Alex never told his parents about his name change.  _ Damon decided that he would tease the taller man for his first name being something like  _Steven_ _._ It was such a posh name, no wonder Alex decided to change it to Alex.


End file.
